


never so much death

by NymboDerp (nymmiah)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deathly Hallows AU, F/M, Follows KHR up to pre-Shimon Arc, KHR-compliant, Post-Deathly Hallows, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3260789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymmiah/pseuds/NymboDerp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Britain had nothing left to offer her, having nothing left to hold her there. The world has everything to offer her - but nothing seems to be just as magical in Luna's eyes as Japan. Tsuna, however, doesn't quite agree with her. Two-shot. Repost from ff.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Calmer Waters

**Author's Note:**

> Because Luna has always been my favourite character in Harry Potter other than Tom M. Riddle Jr.
> 
> For all purposes of the timeline, Luna’s birthday will be on the 2nd of May, the same day as the Battle of Hogwarts in 1998. I’m also going to make the year Luna meets Tsuna, 2010: twelve years after the battle.
> 
> She also refers to people using this format: First name – Last name, because that’s how general Britain nomenclature works.
> 
> Also, Luna is less odd here, but that’s explained by trauma and maturation. Lots of HP character death.

Luna Lovegood had just turned seventeen when she decided that she had to leave Great Britain.

She had to live somewhere without so much _death_ , where the blood of her friends and family no longer clung to the soles of her shoes as she walked (and _oh_ , the spirits around her would grieve those that had passed away, lost in the violence and to never cross into the Undying Lands), where she could no longer feel the ambiance of jubilation and loss that pervaded the air and clung to her skin like a cloud blanketing the sky.

She knew her friends wouldn’t begrudge her escaping the mournful magic that had carved its way into the very rocks Hogwarts had been built upon. The battle had taken its toll upon the history of the school, and she knew that the wounds of 1998 would never be forgotten by anyone, nevertheless by those who had fought in the battle.

Wounds, after all, would heal, but scars remained until the very end.

Luna also knew for a fact that Harry Potter wouldn’t tell her to stay: he had been the one to tell her to leave Britain in fact.

Harry Potter, the first to choose her as a _first_ and not a last option, had urged her to seek her Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, and to capture one of Fudge’s hidden Heliopaths; to explore the world and to find life elsewhere from Britain. Luna had laughed at him, telling him not to be silly: Heliopaths wouldn’t have stayed now that Fudge wasn’t in position!

He’d smiled oddly at her, fondly and wistfully, before walking away. Each step filled him up with more and more courage, and she could see the Nargles surrounding him slowly drop off one by one, freeing him of any earthly burden he carried with him as he joined three figures off in the distance.

Even as the last Nargle fell away silently, she knew that they had to be Ronald Weasley, James and Lily Potter.

The four of them were so beautiful together, faces clear of all tenseness and pain and hurt, and she wouldn’t help but smile widely at them.

Ronald had given her a small wave, and mouthed to Luna an apology for his baby sister and family. James and Lily Potter had smiled back at her with gratitude in their eyes, telling her to _live_ so that when she finally joined them, she would’ve lived enough for not only herself, but for all those who had died in the battle.

She’d waved at them as they disappeared, smiling as resolved finally settled in her heart. She’d left to tell her father that she would leave his home to travel to Europe, to Asia, to America, to find herself again. She would return, but she didn’t know when. Would he be willing to wait for her to come back?

Xenophilius, eyes misty and lacking sight from his time under the Death Eaters, had pulled her into a hug, crying tears into her hair like moonlight. But he’d let her go, giving her his blessing and a gentle kiss on her forehead. The last time he’d kissed her that way had been the night before her mother had passed away.

Gently turning away from her father and the hovering spirit of Pandora Lovegood, she had left Ottery St. Catchpole for Diagon Alley. There she had found at Gringotts’ something left to her from Harry Potter.

The Peverell vault once belonging to Ignotus Peverell had been left for her. In it, no money was to be found. Instead, a lonely Grimoire, accompanied by a dusty monocle and several black diamond beads, were lain out, waiting for her to take them.

The Wrackspurts had fallen silent for the first time when her fingertips touched the vellum that covered the Grimoire. Human skin, she noticed belatedly, stretched over de-scaled dragon pelt. However, the skin had none of the regrets or pain or memories that magic usually etched into the dying, and instead had felt like— _home_.

Carefully prying the book open, her fingers had ghosted over ancient parchment, stirring magic that had stagnated over the centuries of being untouched. Under her fingers, it had awoken much like a cat would from a long nap, fur bristling and back arching under the unfamiliar touch.

She had breathed life back into the book as she flipped through from front to back, moon-silver eyes focusing on the unknown words that were scrawled across each page. Upon closer inspection, she had noticed that each letter inscribed onto the ancient parchment was composed of smaller, archaic, runes, all written in a blood-saturated ink.

But it hadn’t mattered to her that she couldn’t read the Grimoire, nor decipher the runes. She would merely have to learn whatever she needed to learn to understand what Harry Potter had bestowed upon her in his deathbed.

It would merely be the first of the numerous things she would need to learn to _live_ like James and Lily Potter had charged her to.

Placing the book into her pouch, the monocle was settled over her eye, where it hovered without assistance or support. The beads were threaded into her messy hair, braided and tangled until they were lost under her blond locks, settling against the back of her left ear like a reassuring weight. It was Harry Potter’s last gift to her, and she would treasure them no matter what.

The monocle and the beads had thrummed excitedly in unison as she left the Peverell vault, left Gringotts, left Britain for the last time in a long time.

Luna Lovegood had just turned seventeen when she decided that she had to leave Great Britain.

She wouldn’t return for another century and a half, when her hair had paled from a dusky blonde into a moonlight-silver to match her timeless features, ever youthful despite her age, her hair beaded and threaded with numerous trinkets, and runes etched into her wrinkled skin.

* * *

She was eighteen when she’d been taken in by Peruvian shamans and taught the ways of the necromancer. She had learned about what it truly meant to live in the fear of Death. Runes had been etched, scrawled into her skin, glowing purple and white to mark her as one favoured by the Master, despite his having passed over into the next life.

She was twenty-one when she’d learnt to properly read the Peverell Grimoire Harry Potter had left for her in the forgotten temples of the Amazon, where the warrior women and the great Boiúna took her in as a kindred spirit and taught her their ways: both magical and mundane.

She was twenty-four when she was bestowed the title _Sphinx_ by the Grecian scholars that worked in the Libraries of Alexandria. The little British Sphinx, they had laughed, with all the courage of a lion, the sharp eyes of the eagle, the deception of a woman, and the instincts of a snake. Her mind was always in the moon, they had said, and that she truly was a _lunatic_ in every sense.

But she’d already known that she was broken, for who escaped torture untouched? Charged to study in Hong Kong, where wandless magic would be taught by those who sought the masters out until she was twenty-nine, she eventually found herself in Japan, in a small town of Namimori where she finally could find respite from her travels.

However, she hadn’t realised it yet, but Namimori would be where she finally healed.

* * *

When the  _gaijin_ had moved in next door, the sight of her sheer strangeness and her looks had captivated Tsuna’s nine-year-old imagination.

Alabaster skin that could belong only to a white person was covered with freckles and tattoos. It was so unlike his own tanned and golden skin, unmarred by anything but childhood-wrought scars, that he’d stared at the patterns for hours, just tracing them with his eyes in awe.

Her eyes, silver under the sunlight and grey under shade, were so pretty compared to the brown that everyone else he knew had. If he had to compare them to anything, he would say that they reminded him of the stars, or of the moon, or of his mother’s silver jewelry because of how pretty they were.

Her hair was long and messy, it was yellows and browns and golds and silvers and so bright against the black of everyone else’s, and it had beads and feathers and jewels of all sorts adorning it. She even let him play with it whenever he had the courage to peek over the garden wall to stare unabashedly at her as she tended to her wild garden of plants and flowers.

And as if she wanted to stand out even more, she dressed in strange dresses that were made out of a material he’d never seen before, and she also spoke of the strangest things, making her seem more and more out of the norm of any _gaijin_ who came to live in Japan.

After all, who in modern-day Japan, or Britain, or the United States, would still believe that a _kirin_ had visited her home and nibbled at her sunflowers? Or that the a phoenix, one of the mythical firebirds his mother often talked about, often visited her home to trill songs to her?

Nevertheless, she let him come over to her garden whenever he wanted, as long as his mother was alright with it. She let him, despite his being a _dame_ and his being clumsy, help her out with her plants whenever he peered at the curiously curled up plants and flowers. She even helped him with his subjects whenever he mentioned that he was failing class!

However, she didn’t seem to understand his subjects any better than he did, but he really appreciated her attempts to help him with his maths and Japanese homework.

Waving away his mother’s gifts of cookies and cakes with a distant smile, _Rabuguddo_ -san was a strange woman, but Tsuna liked her a lot despite her oddities: they were charming in a way that was different to his own oddities. People didn’t seem to like him much, but they seemed to like _Rabuguddo-_ san more than they liked him.

After a few months of knowing her, she became like an aunt to him, and he’d told her so. She laughed and told him to call him Tsukiko-ba-chan. Her name meant that, she’d told him. _Runaa_ meant Tsukiko. And he liked that a lot too: she really was like the child of the moon, down from her moonlight-eyes to her _yuurei_ -like features, but also in the strange way she dressed. She was like a spirit of the night… but not as scary as the stories his mum had told him as a kid.

But the strangest (and admittedly coolest) thing about his Tsukiko-ba-chan was the secret that she asked him to keep for her after a year of knowing her. It was one that he was determined to keep, no matter what. Though he’d only once been allowed in the second floor of her home, he’d never forget what he’d experienced in her home.

His Tsukiko-ba-chan was a _magician_. He’d never realised until he’d been assaulted by a myriad of smells and sounds and sights that permeated the rooms of her second floor: the cauldrons that bubbled, and the books that floated in midair around her, and the paintings that moved and spoke just like any other person did, and the way she’d only have to flick her wand and hand to make things _happen_ … it was astounding!

The flower she’d conjured up for him, a small stem with one bunch of pink-blue-purple hydrangeas, had been given immediately to his mother. Tsukiko-ba-chan had told him that they would never die, and that he should tell his mother that even though they were fake— _plastic_ , he reminded her with a giggle—she should keep them in a water vase.

It would stop the Nifflers from trying to steal his mother’s porcelain, after all, Tsukiko-ba-chan had added, her eyes crinkling with happiness.

He didn’t know what Nifflers were, but he had assumed that they were something that could wreak havoc at home, and he was pleased that she was thinking of both Nana and his safety.

He hadn’t realised just how much she valued their safety.

He would never find out that she’d omitted the fact that her flower was a charm against harm towards both his mother and himself within their home, that would only ever deactivate when Tsuna intentionally threw the flowers away to rid himself of the charm. By not telling him the purpose of the flowers, it was her way of preventing the charm from ever failing even if he threw them away.

He’d never realised how protective his baa-chan could be over the two of them until the day he turned thirteen, when Reborn came into his life, guns blazing and Vongola behind him.

* * *

“Tsunayoshi, here, have some of these cookies. I’ve put a calming draught in the sugar ones, and a mild pain-relieving one in the chocolates. Don’t eat them unless you have to,” Luna said in her usual nonchalant way, handing the brunet a small box to put into his bag for yet another day at high school. “I’ll know if you’re eating them despite not needing them – it could very bad for your digestive system! We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“Of course not, Tsukiko-ba-chan,” Tsuna chimed obediently, placing the box at the very bottom of his schoolbag. “Are you going to walk with me to school today?”

Shifting his feet anxiously, he looked up (he was almost at the same height as her now, he realised belatedly) at her worriedly. His gut was tensing, and he felt awfully jittery that day, and he was wondering if his aunt could feel it too. It might’ve been the day-old stew he’d eaten as a midnight snack the previous night, but he couldn’t help but think that it could’ve been something else.

Luna’s eyes were fixed onto something in the distance, but she nodded with a pleasant smile on her face. No matter how absentminded she could get, Tsuna knew that she was paying attention to him no matter what. The five years they’d known each other were enough to teach him that much, at least.

“The Wrackspurts are back,” she murmured suddenly, blinking her eyes rapidly for a few seconds. Her eyes had focused on him again.

The non sequitur put Tsuna off for a moment, but he sent her a wry smile, not commenting on the strangeness of her words. That was the first time she’d mentioned _urakkusupaatsu_ to him, however. She usually talked about _naagurusu_ ( _Nargoors?_ He couldn’t remember what they actually were) instead, which he’d come to realise were related to either bullies or minor problems. So what was the meaning of these… _wracksupaatsu_?

“Come. Let’s go, Tsunayoshi.” Luna’s hand curled around his own hand, the pulsing warmth of her tattoos (or rather, runes, as Tsuna had found out just a year ago) seeping from her skin into his. “Why don’t you tell me about what you’re looking forward to today?”

“I’ve got Nezu-sensei today, so I’m not really—…”

“…—I’ll be sure to help you with your—…”

“You don’t have to! I mean, it’s not—…”

As they chattered rather mindlessly about random subjects, Tsuna couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of dread as they approached school. His stomach was churning, and his fingers were twitching. His head was starting to throb ever so slightly, as if he were experiencing his first migraine.

His body seemed to be warning him of something, but he didn’t know exactly what. Was there going to be a change? He hoped not: he rather enjoyed life as it was…

As he parted ways with Luna at the school gates, he noticed Hibari Kyouya approaching, and yelped rather loudly. Maybe it was _that_ he’d been dreading!

Quickly rushing to class before the scary boy could think to hurt him, he was oblivious to Luna lingering at the school gates, staring rather intently at a patch on the wall.

* * *

“Come out.” Luna stated firmly, uncharacteristically focused as she continued to stare at the wall with sharp silver eyes. She took a step closer to it, moving out of Hibari Kyouya’s glaring stare from the inside the school property. “I know you’re here for Tsuna.”

There was a moment, before the sheet covering the figure was lowered, revealing a small child and a chameleon on the brim of his fedora.

“Ciaossu,” the baby greeted.

Ageless, obsidian-black eyes met timeless and mercurial eyes. An eternity seemed to pass before they both blinked, slowly. Magic had settled around them like a warm cloak, and Luna smiled at the child.

Reaching out, she picked him up without any resistance, placing him onto her shoulder. Feeling him grip onto her hair with tiny hands, playing with the black diamonds hiding behind her ear, she began her walk back home.

They were silent as she walked them, avoiding crowds and staying in the back alleys out of habit.

“You don’t wish to harm Tsunayoshi,” she stated simply when she finally opened the front gate to her home. “But I don’t know what you want from him… but it’s something important, is it not?”

The moment the gate was clicked shut, her wards rippled. The baby tensed on her shoulder at the shift in atmosphere— _warm_ , safety, privacy—, but didn’t respond otherwise.

At least, not until she opened the door to her home. He jumped onto the cabinet where she stored her shoes, landing silently despite the force of his leap.

“I’m going to make him the next boss of the Vongola family.” He confirmed without much ceremony. The chameleon flicked its tongue at a passing fly. “And you can’t change that.”

Luna smiled again. “I wouldn’t want to. He’s going to be a good boss,” she murmured quietly, eyes going distant momentarily. Yes, Tsunayoshi would be. He was just like Harry Potter: timid, but meant for greatness. “My name is Luna Lovegood. Tsunayoshi, however, calls me Tsukiko.”

“Reborn. The world’s greatest hitman, but you already knew that didn’t you?” The baby responded bluntly, arms crossing over his chest as he watched her pull out a monocle from one of the charms threaded in her hair. Placing it over her eye, she looked at him.

The monocle hovered over her eye without support, and seemed to glow with a golden light. He shivered under the piercing gaze that the monocle only helped to amplify, and he narrowed his eyes on her.

Baby he may be, he was still an Arcobaleno; an adult cursed to live eternally as a child until the curse was broken. He’d lived longer than she’d been alive, he was sure of that… so the feeling of being stripped under her gaze more than a little disconcerting. And it was convincing him more and more that this woman might be better off dead.

His fingers clasped the brim of his hat, and Leon’s tail flicked against his small hand almost reassuringly.

“You are cursed. I cannot get rid of it for you, nor can I sever your ties to the others,” she said finally, pulling the monocle away from her eye.

The sensation of nakedness left with the disappearance of the monocle, and Reborn relaxed ever so slightly.

Luna looked slightly puzzled as she considered the baby in front of her. The magic sight that the monocle granted her had shown her just how Death’s magic had rejected his soul, unwilling to reap it until the curse was taken from him. The curse sustained the child in a state of eternal youth—but she could see that the curse itself had aged, it showed just how _old_ the child was. He had to be at least five decades old, if not older.

She couldn’t help but pity the child. “Not even Death is willing to rid this curse from you,” she said softly.

“I wouldn’t expect him to be,” the hitman retorted bluntly. “You’re a witch, aren’t you? Probably from Hogwash, or whatever that school is called, considering you’re British.”

They’d switched from Japanese to Chinese of all things, he’d realised. Probably due to how similar the two languages could be at times. But that merely peaked his curiosity: why would this obviously British witch need to learn Chinese—and not just Putonghua, like most people, but _Cantonese,_ the dialect—and Japanese? The British magicians were notorious for their elitist culture: learning anything but Latin, Ancient Runic languages and English was considered folly by most of them.

Luna’s hesitance faded and she smiled at him. When she spoke again, it was English, tinted with a slight Irish brogue. (Her ancestry could probably be traced there he assumed; it was a norm for not a small number of British citizens.)

“Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. I’m unsure of what you are, however, Hitman Reborn. You are not a magic adept, nor are you a squib or muggle.”

Her words puzzled Reborn only momentarily. Squib? Muggle? Probably terms for those without magic, he reasoned.

“Flames. The Mafia use the Flames of the Sky as power,” Reborn divulged without much care for the _Omertà_ that usually bound mafiosos’ tongues on the pain of death. He was Reborn, the World’s Greatest Hitman. He had more than enough authority to choose who was allowed to know about the secrets of the Mafia. “That is our… _magic_.”

Luna nodded at his explanation with a simple smile on her lips, choosing not to ask him any more questions about the Mafia or Flames.

Smart girl, he noted. He could possibly, actually bring himself to like her.

“You are going to shape Tsunayoshi into an heir worthy of the Mafia, are you not? Let me help you, Hitman Reborn. As both a witch and as his aunt,” she said just as delicately as any woman he was acquainted with.

While genuinely sweet, it was full of steel and there was more than a little _warning_ hidden behind the words. It was not a suggestion.

Reborn corrected himself mentally. He could definitely find it within himself to like her.

But he couldn’t rule the possibility out that one day, he would have to kill her.

* * *

For her, life with Reborn had settled frighteningly fast into a rhythm that was both unpredictable but  _good_ . It made her feel…  _settled_ again, and normalcy was a luxury she would never take for granted, not after the war.

Although she had settled roots into her little home in Namimori, the sheer activity that came along with the Vongola and hitman Reborn was more than enough to keep her mind stimulated and wanderlust in check. Those Sylphs were determined to keep her wandering until her feet collapsed beneath her, but she gently turned them away.

Tsunayoshi needed his Tsukiko-ba-chan, and she would use all of the powers she had in her disposal to help him where she couldn’t help Harry Potter.

However, she’d found herself becoming less and less a fixture in his life. After four years of being the main source of friendship and human interaction for Tsunayoshi, she found herself becoming disconcerted with the silence of her home.

But she’d pushed aside all of her emotions to watch as her surrogate nephew grew and mature under Reborn’s guidance.

It had been Hayato Gokudera with his dynamites that had triggered Tsuna’s need to get stronger for both himself and those he cared for.

It had been Takeshi Yamamoto who had made him feel accepted and worthy of friendship.

Then came Trident Shamal and Skullitis, bringing Kyoko Sasagawa and Haru Miura, and also Ryohei Sasagawa into his circle of friends. He’d grown in confidence and happiness, more at ease with the world and himself.

His family of friends had grown to include Bianchi, Gokudera’s sister, and Lambo of Bovino and I-Pin, who’d somehow found their way into their little home.

The house next door to Luna’s seemed to radiate love and warmth, and it made her wonder just when her own had grown so cold.

* * *

“His Flames have been sealed away.”

She had remarked this offhandedly one day, as she sat primly by a hydrangea bush in Nana’s beautifully tended garden with Reborn on her lap. Unlike the bushel that she’d gifted to Tsunayoshi, the flowers were purple and pink, and the petals were much smaller, but that was the wonder of magic: the manipulation and blatant disregard of the laws dictated natural world was something Muggles could only dream of doing.

“I wonder how cold he feels, without anything to keep him warm inside?” Luna wondered rhetorically. “How has his heart stayed so warm despite it all?”

She and Reborn were watching as Yamamoto and Tsunayoshi were studying away and complaining about their homework to each other whenever they met a particularly hard problem. Gokudera was off to the side, smoking in the far end where Tsunayoshi wouldn’t be able to smell the toxins that his cigarettes emitted.

While Luna didn’t necessarily approve of his unhealthy habit, she remained silent: Gokudera was all but emancipated, which was why he could bear the title ‘Smoking Bomb Hayato’ without being affiliated to a particular family at his age. She had no right to berate him for his choice to throw part of his life away to the carcinogenic addiction.

Besides, what right did she have in scolding him, when she herself would spend unhealthy amounts of hours diving into a Pensieve carved into her bedroom wall to revisit simpler days, when they weren’t just shades, when Harry Potter had taught them all how to conjure a _Patronus_ while hidden away from the gaze of Umbridge?

Her Patronus was still a rabbit, but she wondered when it would change to reflect the brokenness inside of her.

“His flames will be unsealed when the time comes. Until then, I’ll be helping him.” Reborn replied as he set Leon down onto the grass beside her. The chameleon crawled up her thigh and settled in the dip of fabric between her legs, stretching out to soak up the sun’s warmth while it still could.

Luna noticed that he didn’t say anything about the feelings that accompanied the lack of flames. Reaching out, she gently stroked the back of his head where the fedora didn’t cover, smoothing down his spiky hair.

“I’m glad,” she murmured, “that he has a man as fiery as the sun to help him until that time.”

Reborn’s eyes narrowed on her immediately, suspicious at her choice of words. He hadn’t said anything about the types of Flames that existed. Was it merely a coincidence?

(He didn’t believe in them.)

Gently tugging at the fedora, her lips curled into a gentle smile even as her moonlight eyes disappeared under the pale skin of her eyelid. “Without the sun, none can see the sky for there wouldn’t be any light.

“… But he will be the one to support you one day, Hitman Reborn.”

If her words rang with power and prophesy, Reborn ignored it. (He didn’t believe in them either.)

* * *

When Tsunayoshi had brought them to her, she had accepted them into her home without question, trusting in his intuition that they would be important to him.

Chrome and her two companions had settled into their rooms in Luna’s simple home after two weeks of residing within her residence. While they would claim to be used to the strangeness of the woman, they had yet to experience everything that could happen in a witch’s home.

Ken and Chikusa were sitting on the couch by the empty fireplace, the former playing one of his muggle video games, and Chikusa reading one of her many tombs. Behind them, Chrome was attempting to bring to life an illusion of butterflies, and her face was screwed up with concentration, her fingers outstretched and trembling.

And then the fireplace spat and hissed with green flames despite the lack of any logs.

Ken and Chikusa, obviously startled, backed a few steps away from the spontaneous fire, the former sending irate glares at Chrome, who’d all but thrown herself towards the wall in an attempt to get away from the fireplace.

 _Well, that wouldn’t do_ , Luna couldn’t help but think. It was _obvious_ that Chrome hadn’t summoned those flames: no illusionist worth their salt would conjure flames that were green.

If anything, the spontaneous flames could be attributed to those pesky pixies, but they rarely left their home located in the parallel dimensions of Ireland.

Blinking with placidity, Luna pulled her wand from its holster, turning the heat under her cauldron down with a short flick. Chrome was cringing at Ken’s glares, while Chikusa was watching the fire warily.

“It’s just the Floo,” she said in her usual airy way, wandering to the fireplace to place a few logs onto the fire. “There’s no need to be so defensive, boys.”

The moment the log landed upon the metal grill that made up the floor of the fireplace, the flames burst upwards and outwards, flaring into the shape of a woman.

Coughing as she stumbled out of the fireplace, Hermione Granger straightened herself up and flicked her wand to clean all and any soot from her decidedly muggle clothing.

The children stared, eyes goggling at the (to them, at least) nonsensical materialisation of the brunette witch.

“Luna, you should always have some logs in the fireplace! What if there was an emergency and I couldn’t reach you? You of all people should know that that is very irresponsible!” Hermione Granger berated, not even pausing to look at the children sat on the couch, who were still shocked by the appearance of the woman.

Indeed, Hermione Granger was a sight to see with her hair flaring out as if emulating her irritation, her eyes lit up with passion and emotion, and her voice filled with imperious demand.

“Not to mention, Flooing across continents is not a particularly _nice_ to do when you’re stuck in between chimneys and false-fireplaces, waiting for a _certain woman_ to open up the fireplace to receive you!” Her wand was stuffed back into its holster, but her mouth continued to move to berate Luna.

However, Luna ignored Hermione Granger’s scolding with ease, smiling at her.

Reaching out, she brushed the scars that covered her flushed cheek with her fingertips. “Congratulations, Hermione Granger. You look very fetching with all of those Blathering Happings floating around you.”

The non sequitur put the brunette off for a few moments, before an irate look crossed her face.

“Blathering Happings don’t _exist_ , Luna! Besides, I came over here to ask you whether or not you would—”

Beaming at her, Luna quickly took Hermione Granger’s hand, fingers gripping her palm tightly. The ring on Hermione Granger’s fourth finger was warm against her skin. “I would be more than happy to! Viktor Krum is a good man, and he was a very good friend to Fleur Delacour, was he not? It’s a shame that he’s never gotten rid of those Nargles since the Triwizard Tournament…”

Torn between pleasure and irritation, Hermione Granger’s expression switched between blushing, smiling, and frowning. It amused Luna quite a lot, even if the children behind her only seemed to get more and more confused at their interaction. They all understood English, even if they were better at Japanese and Italian.

“Come and meet my children. This is Chrome Dokuro, and Ken and Chikusa. Mukuro Rokudo, however, isn’t here at the moment because he’s away. They are all very sweet,” Luna introduced as she gestured at her so-called ‘children’.

Ken’s features had twisted into revulsion and confusion at how he was being introduced, while Chrome had turned a bright red. Chikusa, however, didn’t seem to care too much, even if he’d pulled his hat down enough to cover his eyebrows.

Luna hummed softly in discontentment, pushing his hat up to reveal his face. It was rude to hide your face to guests, after all. She then moved to pat at Ken’s hair, pulling at his cheeks until he was no longer disgusted and instead was annoyed at the (wo)manhandling. Chrome, however, received a smile that was returned tentatively.

Hermione Granger looked at the children strangely, before turning to look at Luna with unamused brown eyes.

They were very much like chocolate, Luna mused. Honeydukes’ chocolate, in fact. Perhaps when she went to Bulgaria as one of Hermione’s bridesmaids, she could get Neville to buy her some chocolate to share with Tsuna and his friends?

Though lost to her thoughts for a few seconds, she didn’t miss Hermione Granger’s following words. “If they’re your children, who’s the father?” She asked drily.

She didn’t expect another voice to answer.

“I am.”

Luna smiled as Reborn found a wand between his eyes, glowing a dark and almost caramel-like gold with the lethal intent of Hermione Granger’s magic. The light however faltered when Hermione Granger noticed who she was pointing her wand at, and she lowered it enough to not be threatening the child anymore.

“… And who are you, kid?” Hermione Granger asked, voice warm though her eyes were defensive. The war had left scars both physical and mental on the brilliant woman, and she would never lose her wariness of strangers… regardless of age and intent.

Scoffing as he pushed his fedora up, the baby stared up at the scholar with a dark humour in his eyes.

Walking towards Luna, he was picked up without the need for words and placed upon her left shoulder. His fingers buried into her dirty blonde hair without pause, and unerringly found the black diamonds beaded into her locks.

“Reborn, the world’s greatest hitman. You are Hermione Granger, sorted into house Gryffindor and friend to the late Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding Britain… Luna has told me about you.” Reborn said without much inflection to his words. Before Hermione could say anything, he buried his face into Luna’s hair, in an act of childishness that suited his current body.

Luna reached up to pat one of his legs, turning to smile at Hermione Granger. “He is the father to my children,” she affirmed.

The look on her friend’s face told her that she felt betrayed by Luna, and that she thought that Luna was crazy for going along with the ‘child’s’ games.

Sometimes, Luna wondered why Hermione Granger would remain so blissfully and willfully ignorant when she was so brilliant and smart.

Reborn was not merely a child, and Luna wouldn’t betray their secrets to just anyone. By now, Hermione Granger should have known that Luna was more than just a strange witch that had survived the war with her, but Luna found that Tsunayoshi knew more about her than her friend at times. His warmth was all encompassing, and led him truer than any Seer could.

“Why don’t you have lunch with us, Hermione? It’ll be nice to have some company,” Luna said with a smile. “And I’m sure Nana wouldn’t mind having one more person at the table.”

* * *

Luna found out that while she had been in Bulgaria, attending Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum’s wedding with the rest of the survivors and friends and family who had been invited (even her father had attended, older and more wizened than ever with various scars now adorning his fingers that bespoke of expeditions), Tsunayoshi had been involved in a series of fights against the Varia and had won the right as the Heir of Vongola through battle.

Reborn had sent her a curt, short message on the health of all the children: Chrome, Ken and Chikusa had no injuries while Lambo, Ryohei Sasagawa and Gokudera Hayato were still hurt enough to have to stay in bed to rest. Tsunayoshi and his friends had defeated Xanxus and his subordinates in battle.

She soon returned to Namimori and found herself in Tsunayoshi’s room, sitting patiently in front of her nephew as he mulled something over.

There was guilt on his face, as well as a more internal, mental pain. The same look she saw on Ginerva’s face every time she thought no one was looking.

“It wasn’t like when we fought with Mukuro-kun,” Tsunayoshi finally murmured, lifting up vulnerable eyes to look at Luna. He’d grown, she realised. Matured while she wasn’t looking. “The Varia were trying to _kill_ us. And they almost succeeded.”

She reached out to place a hand on his head. “Almost is the keyword here, Tsunayoshi. They tried to kill you, but they didn’t. No one died,” she reminded him. “Neither you nor the Varia had any casualties.”

Tsunayoshi was silent as he leaned into her touch. “He trapped his own _father_ in the Gola Mosca. He was trying to kill his father, trying to kill me to get the title of Don Vongola.”

Pausing for a moment, Luna gently tugged him into a loose embrace, an arm going around his back and a hand pushing his head into the crook of her shoulder. He was starting to grow taller than her, but she paid the difference no mind.

“What makes people that cruel, ba-chan?”

Moonlight eyes slid shut as Luna buried her face into soft brown curls. “Humans are all selfish, Tsunayoshi. Not everyone can be as altruistic and selfless as you are. You are special, Tsunayoshi, and are unlike the other mafiosos of the Vongola or the other families.”

Tsunayoshi took in a deep breath, and his body trembled ever so slightly under her hands. In her mind’s eye, she could see his will flare up and warm up the coldness of his core—and his soul glowed the orange of embers, dying by the second but ready to come alive with the right kindling.

“I want to change it. I want to change the Vongola… as the Tenth Boss of the Vongola,” he said finally, one hand covering the other to touch the inconspicuous ring on his hand.

And if his words rang with power and prophesy, Luna believed wholeheartedly in it.

(She’d always believe in him.)

* * *

“You’ve come to tell me what you planned not to tell me, haven’t you Reborn?” Luna asked absently as she pruned the vines of the Angel’s Snare plant in front of her.

Neville had been kind enough to send her the seeds to the plant when she’d mentioned its effectiveness in preventing Lethifolds and Dementors from drawing close, and that she’d been interested in testing its properties for a very long time in potion making, at Hermione Granger’s wedding just a week ago.

Reborn snorted, choosing not to comment on her foresight and words, having gotten used to it over the few months they’d known each other.

“It’s been long enough, and you should know more about the Mafia now that you’ve declared yourself his aunt, and made yourself his Mist Guardian’s tutor and… guardian.” His lips twisted at the irony. “There won’t be any escape from this world now.”

Luna hummed, relinquishing her grip on her gardening pliers when the vines wrapped insistently around it. Lightly stroking the main stem once, she turned around to face Reborn.

Reaching out to pick him up, she carried him out of her small shed (which had been magically expanded into a greenhouse that could rival the sizes of Hogwarts’) to the second floor of her home. Locking them in her study, she placed him on the writing desk in the middle of the room.

He looked around speculatively, having never been on the second floor of her home—though not for the lack of trying. She had had it warded against all entry, friendly or not, unless she’d given the guest permission to come up into her private sanctuary.

“Interesting collection,” he remarked as he gestured at the multitude of bookshelves that lined the walls of the room, from floor to ceiling and even then some: if his eyes weren’t deceiving him, the bookshelves seemed to have no end to their depth. Layer upon layer of books could be seen before darkness consumed the tomes, and he had no doubts that there were even more hidden in the gloom.

And Reborn was fairly confident that she’d read each and every one of the books she kept stored in the room.

Luna smiled widely. “I’m a Ravenclaw… I think it rather comes with the territory,” she replied, as if that explained the innumerable books she kept. (And it probably did, Reborn mused. It was a Hogwarts thing, he assumed.)

“Hn. At least you’re well-read,” Reborn said, words curt but voice amused. Letting Leon hop off of his fedora and onto the table, he launched into an explanation of the Vongola and Mafia without any warning.

He told her of the truth of the Flames, and of the Guardians to which Tsunayoshi was the Sky. Of the Tri-Ni-Sette, and of the Rings that made up two thirds of the balance and the Pacifiers that made up the rest. Of the Arcobaleno and the curse that they held, of the pacifiers that hung around their necks in reminder of their penance. Of the Families and of his ties—which he gave solely to the Cavallone and the Vongola, but it wasn’t them who benefitted; it was him, for it was _Reborn_ who had taught the Bosses, and it was _Reborn_ who had them contact him first and not the other way around. And before long, he found himself telling her briefly of his life and of his relations with other women and men, of the Arcobaleno as _people_ , of Dino Cavallone, of Timoteo, of Tsunayoshi’s father, of Shamal, of Bianchi and of his lovers.

Before long, he found himself listening to her, and her explanations of magic and of the war she’d fought against Voldemort. Of being a part of the Defense Association and of a magical battle within the catacomb-like Hall of Prophecies. Of the deaths of her friends, of the torture her loved ones had all experienced. Of Harry Potter and his bravery, and he could see the frailty of her mask as she told him of her fifth year at Hogwarts, when she’d accompanied him to a dinner party and he could see that that had been the moment she’d fell in love with this Harry Potter.

The unnecessarily excessive sentimentality of women disgusted Reborn, but he didn’t let it show. He merely blinked at her, waiting patiently for her to finish her emotional tirade—but she smiled at him.

She’d moved on from the boy, it seemed, when she’d seen his spirit depart from her side. It was obvious she’d never considered her feelings towards Potter as _love_ , and for that, he was partly amused by and partly glad. Romantic love never ended well when it came to war or the Mafia, and she’d just come out of one to become part of the other.

She’d learnt what she needed to become stronger, to heal herself as well as to be able to defend those who needed to be defended. She’d become a Necromancer, titled the _Sphinx_ (how fitting the title was; enigmatic, full of feminine wiles, different from humans in both personality and being), and came to be in Japan.

“So that’s why you have all those beads and trinkets in your hair.” Reborn remarked when the flow of words from Luna had finally come to a momentary pause. “It’s a symbol of your power.”

Luna nodded, pulling out the original string of black diamonds in her hair. “This is what Harry Potter had gifted to me. These are the first, and they will be the last to come off.” She fingered them for a moment, looking oddly hesitant. “They remind me of you, and your eyes.”

Reborn paused, before a smirk formed on his lips. “So I remind you of death, you mean? I’m not surprised.”

She shook her head, taking his fedora and placing it to the side. Stroking his cheek, she smiled. Lifting him up, she buried her face into his spiky hair.

Luna finally spoke after a moment.

“Protection. These beads are the Master’s protection from Death’s touch as I dabble in his magic. You are warm like the sun, Reborn. You’ll never be death to me.”

* * *

_You’ll never be death to me._

Nine years into the future, and those words still rang in his ears as clearly as the day she’d said them.


	2. A Circle's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied. Things change after the Future Arc. There is **major** canon divergence.

Questioning one’s mortality was what most people did, she realised. Death was scary to humans: it was abstract, final and the one promise that would always be fulfilled.

But Luna had never questioned what death meant to her.

She never harboured the desire to avoid death—especially with the knowledge that she wouldn’t be alone, whether she continued to live or joined her friends in the Undying Lands. From a young age, she had possessed the knowledge that the concepts of life and death were interchangeable and cruelly unavoidable.

The gravity of those concepts came as harsh lessons that had been imprinted into her heart as a child, watching so very— _passively_ as her mother passed away in front of her eyes, skin melting and flaking off to the sound of her agonised screaming.

Death was a fact that had been taught to her over and over again.

As a child, when elderly, adults, children, humans and magical creatures all around her died in a war that had been building over the decades. As a teenger, when children were born and brought into a broken world that was only now just picking itself up and trying to repair whatever it could. As an adult, trapped in a future where she and Reborn and the rest of the Arcobaleno were gone.

Finding out that she had died in the future in this particular timeline hadn’t startled her.

And so, she didn’t have any qualms about being led to her tombstone, didn’t deny her future death, didn’t ask how she had passed.

Rather, she’d accepted it peacefully, and as gracefully as any necromancer would.

“I do hope that I’ve been able to talk to my father before this happened.” She said placidly, gently tracing the elegant loops engraved into the marble tablet as her epitaph.

There was nothing left of her presence in the future, other than this one, lonely tablet in a quiet cemetery. Her body was neither buried here, nor buried elsewhere: she had been cremated, her ashes scattered into the ocean and carried away by the waves.

The black diamonds that used to adorn her hair and the monocle had been placed upon her tablet. Untouched and unclaimed, they sat there, their inherent magic dulled and dying back down without a master to use them.

It was fitting.

Luna gazed at them with a bittersweet fondness rising in her heart. She had no doubts that they had been faithful companions until she had died; she wondered if she had been able to live up to what Harry Potter had seen within her.

She did hope so very much that she had.

Beside her, Reborn reached out to touch the diamonds. The magic within them recoiled from his touch, and Reborn stilled for a few scant seconds.

But she didn’t take too much notice of either event.

Indeed, Luna only noticed his strange behaviour peripherally, too absorbed in reading into the scratches on the marble, the inconspicuous variations in depth of the engravings.

Someone had been… preoccupied while making her tablet. The chisel had been unsteady as the hammer struck it, causing these subtle distortions that gave the characters of her name such character.

A smile slowly crossed her features.

It had to have been etched by someone who had been overcome by grief, yet determined to honour her in death. It was lovely; she could not have asked for more.

“I’m well loved, aren’t I?” She murmured finally, gently stroking the tablet one last time.

She scooped the little diamonds into her hands, pocketing them after a moment’s thought. Brushing dirt from her knees, she got up from the muddy ground and turned towards the child beside her.

“Who do you suppose it was, Hitman Reborn, who made this for me?”

He was silent, shaking his head once. “Let’s leave. The radiation is making me sick.” Reborn said bluntly, choosing not to answer her as he hopped onto her shoulder, making her head towards the nearest entrance to a Vongola safehouse.

She let him keep his secrets, a wistful smile slowly forming on her lips as she wondered over the state of Hogwarts in the future.

Had Harry Potter’s grave stayed untouched by time and apocalypse?

* * *

Reborn had been the first to arrive ten years later, followed shortly by Luna a scant few hours after him when Lambo had accidentally turned his Bazooka against her in panic the moment she’d called out for him in her garden.

Found by Takeshi Yamamoto in a wreckage-filled part of the city, she’d been escorted to a secret hideout within the surrounding forests of Namimori, where she’d been reunited with the Arcobaleno.

Takeshi Yamamoto was strange to her now; a stranger in the guise of a man she would come to know.

And it wasn’t just the scar that marred his chin that made him so.

He was ten years older, and ten years of experience weighed in his sienna eyes. His light-heartedness still sweet but now with a honed edge; it was honesty cloaked within necessary viciousness.

So yes, he was very strange to her. But the way he held himself was something she was familiar with.

It reminded her of the war a decade ago, though it was two decades now in the future.

(How very strange it was to think that _now_ was _ten years later_ ; she could now sympathise with Hermione Granger’s—now Krum—reluctance to speak of her third year, when she’d wielded her Time Turner without thought of the power she held in her hands. It was a power that only gods should have; how arrogant wizards were to try and master such concepts! It was no wonder that they’d all been smashed that one night, deep within the depths of the Department of Mysteries. Magic was a righteous tyrant.)

Yamamoto Takeshi’s shoulders were stiff with fatigue of battle, and his eyes were filled with a grief that came from failure and the failure to mourn. She’d once been like him; she’d seen others consumed by what was consuming him at that moment.

Accompanying the grief was an esoteric light in his eyes, which told Luna that the boy—now man—knew something about her that he wasn’t going to tell her.

Luna didn’t mind. Secrets were kept for a reason, and she couldn’t be the one to decide whether she was told them or not. Secrets could kill, she knew.

She let him keep his thoughts to himself, and it had been when she was with Reborn that she’d found out about the ruination wrought by Byakuran Gesso and Shouichi Irie.

And soon, Takeshi Yamamoto had left the hideout, and returned with Tsunayoshi, Hayato Gokudera, and a woman whose skin was marred and her soul even more so.

She learnt that the woman’s name was Lal Mirch.

And she recalled the words Reborn had spoken all those weeks, months, years ago about the Arcobaleno, about the men and women who had been warped by the power of their Pacifiers to become little bairns, babies who had the right and ability to bring great harm.

She pitied Lal Mirch then, for she held not only the corrupted Pacifier, but also the corruption that came with the death of a loved one.

\---

Hermione Krum, it seemed, was still alive.

She had two children, little Hugo Ron and Lily-Rose Krum, delightful and as precocious as their mother.

Hermione Krum had been delighted to see Luna; had been disturbed to find out that she’d come from the past.

Perhaps she could find some way of pulling her back into the past? she’d murmured, frantically brushing through her books in the scant few minutes Luna had been with her in Bulgaria.

Viktor Krum had had a fond look on his face as he carried the babbling two-year-old Lily-Rose, Hugo Ron having occupied himself with brandishing a toy wand at nothing much in particular. Or perhaps not; could he also see the impish sprites that flickered between dimensions before them?

Luna had smiled then. Such beautiful children; she would have such wonderful things to look forward to.

She had then reached out to gently stroke Lily-Rose’s head. Two years of life had given the young girl a vivacity that Luna would have envied had she not remembered her own innocent years.

“There’s no need. All I need to know is that you two are both safe, and alive.” She’d replied.

She’d soon left through the Floo, her Patronus-grey eyes fixed upon Hugo Ron’s precocious brown ones as she disappeared.

The little boy, only five years old yet with a lifetime spread out in front of him, waiting, now had future-Luna’s beads threaded through his hair.

* * *

The silver raven slowly dissipated from its position around Reborn, melting away into nothingness as Tsunayoshi watched with awestruck brown eyes.

Reborn shuddered imperceptibly as the material that had made up the spectre slipped under the fabric of his hat and into his skin, warmth and pure _happiness_ seeping into the very fibre of his soul.

“It should hold back the effects of the radiation, according to future-Luna’s notes,” Luna said with a smile, obviously curious about what else her future self had written in the myriad of journals that lined the research room’s walls. “I’d never realised that the Patronus charm could be used in this way. I had known of its properties, known what it was, but to see that _happiness_ can combat death…”

She trailed off. Wars sapped away at what happiness remained within people’s hearts. Perhaps that was the reason why so many had died back then, in those dark times.

Her deft fingers reached out to pull out a journal from the bookshelf. She would have cracked it open too had she not been interrupted.

“What is the _Paturonasu_ _chaamu_?” Tsunayoshi asked in wonder, his tongue slipping over the untested foreign words. “And why was it a raven?”

The blonde glanced over at him, which made him cringe backwards, thinking that she wouldn’t humour his questions. However, she answered him after a moment’s thought.

“The Patronus charm was created a few millennia ago, originally as a defence against Dark creatures such as Dementors, but only a few decades ago, it was found to be able to carry messages between wizards. A Patronus is constructed solely through the channeling of magic as _corporeal_ _memories_ —truly happy ones, pure and unadulterated.

“They are expressed as animals, mundane ones, without magic, because otherwise they’d develop sentience of their own. They’d become homunculi; an inorganic soul within an inorganic body, bound to only your magic and will. The species of animal depends upon the wizard. It’s where the muggle term _spirit animal_ came from, as well as the myth of the guardian spirit. The animal that materialises can change if something significant occurs in your life.”

Luna trailed off then, eyebrows furrowing as she considered Reborn with her moonlight eyes.

He was watching her with almost wary expression on his face.

He’d become distant from her ever since they’d found themselves in the future. Why he’d done so, she had no idea—but she wouldn’t question it.

Reborn, after all, had reasons for everything he did.

Even so, she’d found herself feeling lonely, much like the times she’d been that strange Ravenclaw who didn’t belong to her own house because of her imagination and beliefs; the time before the Defense Association and Harry Potter.

Luna closed her eyes momentarily.

“My Patronus has changed from a rabbit to a raven sometime between today and four years ago, though I can’t imagine why it would’ve changed in the first place, considering…” She cut herself off, shaking her head.

It was better if she did not think of such things. There was no use in mourning things that had already been mourned.

She turned to look at Reborn again, who continued to stare back at her with unreadable eyes.

His eyes, black and chipped, were so similar to the cold darkness of the diamonds in her hair.

They were the promise of death.

“Come to me every morning at seven before breakfast. This is what my future self did to prevent you from dying so quickly, before we both passed away.” Luna dared to say in an imperious tone, ignoring how Tsuna’s face blanched rapidly at both her audacity to order Reborn around, as well as the mention of their deaths.

Reborn nodded curtly in response, barely sparing her a farewell before leaving the room.

The door creaked shut behind him.

* * *

It wasn’t until Tsunayoshi and Luna were well alone in the room that he’d asked her the question he’d been meaning to.

“Tsukiko-ba-chan… what’s going on between you and Reborn?” Looking at her with an oxymoronically firm hesitance, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was making a visual expression of his unwillingness to get an answer that didn’t satisfy him.

Luna, however, blinked at him in confusion.

Was there something going on between herself and Reborn? There was a strange, ever-growing distance between herself and him, but it bothered her not.

The presence of wrackspurts, however, ever multiplying around them all was much more problematic to her.

“There’s nothing going on, Tsunayoshi. Reborn is merely being himself. Is it that strange that he’s not spending time with me?”

Tsunayoshi furrowed his brows, and his eyes seemed to flash the orange of glowing embers. Was this the Sky flame that Reborn had told her about just a few days ago?

“It… it’s strange. Back in the—uh, present, other than when he is spending time with me or Yamamoto-kun, or when Dino-san is here, he’s always with you.” He trailed off, mulling over something.

Luna gently rubbed the top of his head, mussing up his hair with an air of fondness around her. He was so sweet, thinking of her constantly. “If that’s what you think, then I believe you.”

He continued, however, having more to say.

“I also think that you love him.”

She blinked at him again, her hand stilling. How peculiar it was that he would state such an obvious thing.

“Of course I love him. I love Reborn just as much as I love you.” Luna said decisively, watching as Tsuna’s cheeks turn a slight pink at her warm words. “My old headmaster used to say that love is the greatest power.” She added as an afterthought, looking contemplative.

(Did she believe that still? She wasn’t all too sure. For all the wealth of knowledge she had at her fingertips, love had never seemed to cause anything other than eternal happiness or death.)

(Happiness, however, was never reserved for anyone other than the lucky.)

“I- I didn’t mean love in that way… I meant as in _romantically_!” Tsunayoshi stammered out, quickly regaining his composure as he looked at her seriously.

Luna blinked again, slowly.

How… peculiar that he would say that.

She’d found that wizards and muggles alike from the West put so much emphasis on love and romance and the need for both women and men to be defined by such things. It was strange to hear Tsunayoshi stammer out such things so vehemently.

However, what he said did make sense. On her part, at least.

It explained the change of her Patronus, and the loneliness that had settled itself into her heart.

She’d become so accustomed to his presence that the lack of it had been jarring.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t understand Reborn’s sudden reticent and taciturn behaviour. He certainly was coy at the best of times, but now he was just… cold.

But she believed that Reborn would sort things out. He wouldn’t stay like that forever.

And never for one moment did Luna ever think that Tsunayoshi was mistaken—she merely heard his words and took them as the truth that they were.

He said that she was _in_ love.

Perhaps she was.

Luna had no particular inclination to know the distinctions between the different forms of love. Love was love was love; love was power, and she knew that she loved Tsunayoshi and Reborn in equal measures.

“Then it seems that I have a curse to break,” Luna said after a moment’s thought, lips curling into a smile. “You may end up with an uncle, if all ends well, Tsunayoshi.”

The look of horror on Tsunayoshi’s face made her laugh loudly.

* * *

Standing outside of the room, Reborn and Yamamoto stood waiting, listening to the lighthearted conversation happening inside.

“… It’s good that they both can still laugh,” Yamamoto commented, his features soft despite the harsh scars that marred his features and the tenseness that came with hardship and war. “Tsuna’s still capable of happiness despite everything he’s been through… and will be going through.”

Reborn’s expression didn’t change as he felt Yamamoto’s eyes rest on him, keeping his facial features blank and unmoving.

“But you know, Tsuki-san, before she died… she’d withdrawn from our lives. And I think you know why. She’s said it just now.”

“The curse cannot be broken, and she is a fool.” Reborn responded, words cruel and eyes going cold.

“Don’t act so ignorant. It doesn’t suit you, Reborn.” Yamamoto shifted against his spot against the wall, arms crossing over his chest. “She loves you.”

“ _She is a fool to love me_ ,” the hitman reiterated, eyes narrowed, finally turning away from the door to look at Yamamoto. “This curse is nothing to take lightly. She will not be able to break it.”

The Rain Guardian paused, mulling over what Reborn had just said. He scratched at his chin, fingertips tracing the scar found there when the itch to fidget remained in him.

He let out a slow exhale of breath, huffing softly in amusement. “You always were so unbelieving…” Though really, that was an understatement. “Did you ever trust in her, Reborn?”

Reborn didn’t respond. But his silence was telling.

Yamamoto’s features fell in resignation, and he let out a sigh. Pushing off of the wall with his raised foot, he walked away silently, leaving Reborn alone in front of the room.

Cold and numb, Reborn refused to feel anything.

* * *

The future was confusing for Luna—because it seemed so much like her own past.

War, though it was of a different nature, was present.

Indeed, there were a lot of things that seemed to stay a constant: civilians walked around on the streets of Namimori, the city was still lively, and even her house was still there, with its magical plants and wards still strong and protective.

But the house next to her own was no longer the Sawada household. Hana Kurokawa was older, quieter; she was mature. The Millefiore were trying to take Yuni from them. Reborn no longer talked to her.

But Luna wasn’t a stranger to change, nor was she one to revel in her past. She would move on and survive, just like she always had.

“… I’m glad to see you still here,” Luna said softly, smiling beatifically as she opened the door to her bedroom. “You must have missed me. I _have_ been gone for the past few weeks.” The air inside of the room was stale, making her open the windows up for a light breeze to enter.

The faint smell of hydrangeas and potions that lingered on the walls of her room was swept away by the rush of city smog and juxtaposing freshness, but she paid no mind to the strange amalgamation of scents—her eyes were fixed upon the gild-framed painting in front of her.

On the wall, the still and mute portrait of her mother gazed at her with a gentle smile. Pandora, dark haired and rosy cheeked, was sitting on a chair beside an equally lifeless Xenophilius, waiting for the day Luna would place his magical imprint into the canvas to finally bring them to life. Her mother’s magic radiated from the earthy tones of the paint, and Luna basked in it, closing her eyes to merely _breathe_ , exist quietly in harmony with her surroundings.

During war, a moment’s peace was hard won. Even if it were ill deserved.

She opened her moonlight eyes again, reaching out to gently stroke the waxy surface of the painting, letting the swirls and edges of the oil paints drag against her fingertips.

The tug of longing in her heart made her recall those hard earned lessons in Peru, and she could see the runes on her hands glow.

_Algiz_ was a dark purple, malevolent against the paleness of her skin; _Algiz_ , the Elder Futhark rune of protection and the Younger Futhark of the yew tree, of death.

But which one was it? Was it a warning?

Or was it an invitation?

Never before had she felt the presence of Death so sharply, and she could feel herself shudder. Despite all of the years of studying his magic, the heavy, bitter tang of magic was almost too much to bear. It tickled at her soul, trying to pry it from her body—but something was hindering it.

Luna was supposed to be dead in this time.

But Luna was alive.

She didn’t understand why Death hadn’t forcibly reaped her soul yet, or why Time hadn’t deleted them from existence – bad things happened to those who attempted to change the future, after all.

She could recall how Pandora herself had passed away.

“… I miss you, mum,” she murmured, words vulnerable with her internal turmoil. She wished Pandora would speak to her, and help her understand. Her mother always had an answer, after all. “I wish you could be here with me. You’d know what’s going on right now, wouldn’t you?

“And also I wish you could have met Tsunayoshi and his friends. I know you would have loved… Reborn. Perhaps one day, I will be able to show you to them. You and father, and Harry Potter and everyone else. You’d no longer be lonely, and we’d all… be happy, right?”

There was no response from the painting, but Luna had been expecting that.

The timeless smile on the painting stayed in place, unchanging and immovable.

Pandora’s kind features were mocking.

* * *

The Future was harsh, bleak, and Luna could barely count how many times Tsuna had already stumbled and fallen, hurt beyond measure.

She’d known that he couldn’t do this alone—so seeing him reach out and find strength in his Family and his enemies had… reassured her. It was something that Harry Potter had never been able to do.

He’d died that day in Hogwarts, alone save for his greatest enemy.

Though she had reconciled herself with the pains and heartache of war, she found herself entertaining dangerous thoughts.

She knew that if only he had been standing with a friend, things would have ended differently for Harry Potter.

She wished that things could have ended differently for Harry Potter.

Harry Potter, had he been alive, would have kept the world a much better place. She knew that he would’ve been here with her. He was the kind of boy who would do that; he was selfless beyond measure.

Just like Tsunayoshi was.

She couldn’t help but wonder as she watched Tsunayoshi walk into battle with his Family at his back whether Tsunayoshi was the redemption that she sought for Harry Potter.

There were so many parallels between Harry Potter and Tsunayoshi, too many for her to count.

They were both so strong.

She knew Reborn knew it too.

And so, they both watched as Tsunayoshi threw himself headlong into their battle for survival.

Was it a bubble of pride within her that she felt as he fought for his friends and family? Perhaps it was.

There was so much to be proud of when it came to Tsunayoshi. She wished that he could know it too, but it seemed that he would never be able to see what other people saw when they looked at him.

It was as much of a curse as it was a blessing.

And so, throughout their time in the future, Luna stayed with Reborn at the Vongola headquarters, watching tensely with Giannini as Tsuna and his friends entered the Millefiore headquarters.

The diamonds in her hair heated up as they navigated the ever-changing rooms.

She watched with pride as Tsunayoshi overcame challenge after challenge, met Spanner and changed him, made him a friend; she watched as both he and his friends all grew in power and confidence; she watched as Chrome’s illusions grew from mere figments of her imagination into reality—and she noticed something that she’d underestimated all along.

They had so much potential.

So much more than she knew her own friends ever had.

If they’d been ever so slightly like Tsunayoshi and Chrome and the rest of them—would Harry and Ron and all the rest of the resting souls still be alive?

* * *

But she couldn’t stay a bystander.

They’d fought through the Millefiore Headquarters, confronted Irie Shouichi, uncovered the truth from the treacherous lies—

And then came the game of Choice, of which Yuni was the ultimate prize.

Luna could feel in her veins the electrifying sparks that came from a selfless sacrifice, and she knew that neither side would win.

As Tsunayoshi unlocked his Vongola ring, and as Byakuran was forced into quasi-surrender, she watched silently as Gamma forced his way through the barrier separating the three Skies, all so different in nature, and pulled Yuni into his arms.

Though she wished to close her eyes, she kept her moonlight eyes open to give the girl the dignity and honour she deserved as she disappeared into nothingness.

Luna couldn’t help but shed a few, final tears in remembrance of Yuni’s terrified bravery, even as she felt the growing surge of magic in her periphery.

How strong must the girl have been, to face death so courageously at that age? And for what? The lives of those who had missed their dying day?

As much as she could admit her love for one of them, Luna was more than aware of the imbalance it caused in the magic of the world. They should have stayed dead. And because they’d been brought back—the Future had splintered, was now broken, and was thus sentenced to Death.

Whether it meant the deaths of those in this reality, or the death of this particular reality itself, Luna didn’t know, but the sheer _wrongness_ of the world was choking her.

The magic was building up, much like a tsunami. Swelling up, the waves of Death were tumultuous and terrifying in power.

Nausea was rising, and within the pit of her abdomen, a raw sickness churned, making her stumble as if drunk, clasping at the nearest support with weak fingers.

Tsunayoshi stared back at her unseeing eyes in worry, but she paid him no mind—

For the magic of the Arcobaleno swirled around them, yet still Luna paid it no mind—

For the Master himself could be felt, pressing in on the world around them.

Death was demanding death from those who had eluded it, but the Master was holding the entity back. But why would he do that?

She couldn’t understand why he would be defying that which he held mastery over when it was so obvious that the balance had been thwarted. Balance had to be restored; that was one of the fundamental principles of magic.

“We should be dead,” she whispered hoarsely, silvery wisps slowly dripping from her lips as she felt Death trying to claw into her very soul—force it out, rip it from her very body and away. The Master’s touch lingered on her back, keeping her rooted and grounded. “We’ve stayed for too long. _We should be dead._ ”

Tsunayoshi’s eyes were on her, and she could feel her chest shudder with every breath.

Her ribs felt like they were going to cave in on themselves, pierce her lungs and rip her very breath out of her.

Before her, she could see the vague outlines of the rest of the Arcobaleno slowly appear; the aftermath of Yuni’s sacrifice. _Eternal peace_ , they said, _ensured by Yuni’s death_.

(Or had they?)

Death screamed at that; struggled to rip them back into its embrace. The Master stopped it; prevented the concept from stealing back the souls that had escaped.

But despite it all, despite the screams that filled her ears and the white noise that slowly descended upon her hazing mind, she could see them suddenly— _grow_. Blooming, not unlike the petals and leaves of a nightbloom unfurling under the moonlight.

Babies slowly morphed into children who slowly morphed into adolescents.

Even without her monocle over her eye, she could see that the curse had broken. Death had been chased away from them—though its grip still latched onto her.

And the Master’s gentle pressure slowly lifted from around her.

The white noise only got louder, blotting out the screams. And she could see Tsunayoshi’s features twist, going from exultation to confusion to fear, and his voice was the last thing she could hear before it disappeared into blankness.

“ _No!_ ”

It was quite fitting that that would be the last she would hear.

A refusal to follow. A refusal to leave. A refusal of the truth.

Her lips curled into a gentle smile, and she leaned back into the blanket of warmth that slowly began to wrap around her.

She could see Reborn’s eyes widen, and his hand stretch out for her, his fingers and limbs and body straining as he lunged towards her with his suddenly too-long arms—and his hand passed through her.

She couldn’t hear his voice, though she could see his lips part and his throat clench with speech.

She murmured a soft confession, privy only to the silent Reborn, whose features bubbled and elongated.

Somehow, Luna felt a strange wistfulness at the sight of _her_ Reborn disappear, his childish features melting away into the mature, chiseled features of a grown man. He would become handsome, she noticed.

She lifted her hand and waved at him, waved at the people gathered behind him. Only Chrome waved back, her single eye reddened and teary.

Luna turned her back to them and walked into Death’s embrace.

* * *

Everything was silent.

Luna continued to walk without direction, changing her path upon her very whim, humming a soft tune to herself as she did so.

Left, right, diagonals, hop and a skip and a jump—though there was no destination for her to head towards, she entertained the thought of continuing this pointless journey regardless.

Everything stayed silent.

She was the only soul that continued to walk.

In the distance, souls flickered and died and disappeared. She was the only one that lingered. Why was that?

“That would be my doing.”

Luna didn’t falter in her steps, continuing to walk forward aimlessly. “Was it right to do so?” She replied whimsically.

“I didn’t know what I was doing. But that’s how I’ve always done things, Luna. Called a hero, but only by a fluke. I’m sorry that it had to turn out this way… I wanted to break the curse that Kawahira had placed upon them. And I did, I managed it. But the price was—you.”

Harry Potter approached her quietly, the corners of his lips dimpled with a frown.

“I was prepared.” Luna replied quietly, looking around them.

Now they were in King’s Cross Station.

All of the terminals were empty; the walls were cracked and white. There was only one bench; she found herself sitting on it. So she beckoned Harry Potter over, patting the seat beside her.

“Death is strange,” she murmured abruptly, even as his hand brushed against hers, his weight making the wood of the bench creak. “I hadn’t realised that it would be so… tranquil. So many souls pass through every day, yet there is no sound at all to be heard.”

“I brought you here. I knew there would be no one else,” Harry Potter replied. His eyes were a misty green, no longer as vibrant as they were in life. But they had a quality that reminded Luna of her mother. Secrets lay within his mind, primordial ones. “… I could send you back, you know? I’m… well, Death must obey me. And you’ll die again, so it must be satisfied with that.”

Luna’s lips curled into a smile. “That is kind of you.”

Harry Potter laughed softly. “You don’t want to take it.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. She was pleased that he still remembered her, still knew her to such an extent that he could say such a thing without hesitation.

“There is no fun in cheating a game so many times. And I’ve never been a dishonest person.” She replied, tilting her head to the side.

Harry Potter nodded, lapsing off into silence. She followed him, though her voice picked up her hum again.

It was a long time before he spoke again.

“Kawahira; he was admirable at first. He tried to save the world. But he soon thought himself a god. He’s not human, but he’s no deity either: he tried to make himself divine; this curse of his… it perverted the nature of life and death.

“The Tri-Ni-Sette is only a representation of the foundation of the world, you see. It’s a symbol of the eternal cycle, and it’s a partial carrier to its immense power. Did your friends ever tell you what it was composed of? No? The sky, the sea, the land; _il cielo_ , _il mare_ , and _la terra_. You realised it, hadn’t you? That the Tri-Ni-Sette represents life in its essence.

“But he didn’t realise that the Tri-Ni-Sette is only just that; a representation. He gave it more meaning that it was ever meant to have, made it a deity in itself, to which he was guardian. I had to fix it; he would eventually abuse what it meant to the rest of the humans. I had to fix the curse of the Arcobaleno. And now, I have to fix this.”

Harry Potter was smiling now.

He reached out to touch her earring, gently pulling the accessory off of her. The preserved radish crumbled in his palm.

Luna watched him for a moment. “Now I’m going to be imbalanced until I can replace that,” she berated lightly. “Imbalance is never good; with your head tilted to one side and your weight shifted accordingly, your feet will lead you down strange paths.”

“That was symbolic of your past.”

She blinked once, then twice.

Harry Potter took hold of her second earring, and that too disappeared. The crumbled dust trickled out of his palm and onto the pristine floor of King’s Cross Station. A dash of beige against white.

“That was your future,” he murmured.

He reached out to take hold of the black diamonds threaded into her hair, and he pulled those off too. The glistening trinkets stopped thrumming with power. They were inert.

“And now, your magic. This will be the price for your return. All souls forget that which they once were before they are returned to life—but this was my fault. I must make amends,” Harry Potter smiled faintly, placing the beads into her hands. She curled her fingers around them. “Your friends are waiting for you.”

“When will I see you next, Harry Potter?” She asked, staying placid on the bench as he got up, brushing his hands against his pants.

“Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps in a decade. Who knows? Time is fluid, and destinies change eternally.” His eyes were jade; they were blazing emerald. And then they were mist and moss again.

He turned his head to look behind him, even as a train pulled up and stopped. As a compartment door opened, he gestured for her to enter.

Luna got up slowly, reaching up to thread the beads into her hair, settling against the back of her left ear where feathers and other trinkets lay. She took his hand, letting him lead her onto the train.

“Goodbye, Luna,” he murmured, lips brushing against her cheek. “You’ll be fine.”

Luna smiled at him. “Goodbye, Harry.” The door closed, a barrier between them. And she watched as he disappeared from view, a hand raised in farewell.

* * *

Perhaps she hadn’t reacted as she should have when Harry Potter made her magic wither.

Oh, what magic she’d used in the past continued to linger, she was still aware of the charms that she’d cast upon Chrome and Tsunayoshi and Reborn, but she herself was now—not a squib, but no longer a witch.

But she was still Luna Lovegood.

Within the cradle of the crater she found herself in, she glanced up at the sky. She would have Apparated home, back to Japan. But instead, she was left within the wilderness, bare save for her clothes and now useless wand.

She could see that the field she was in was populated sparsely with grass and a few wildflowers. A few metres away from her, a fallen tree had been riddled with pockmarks, as if a bird had pecked its way through it. And in the horizon, the sun slowly rose, peering over the curvature of the earth to light the day up.

Something within her told her to wait, so she did, settling herself within the crater, her feet tucked beneath her neatly and her hair tousled by the playful breeze.

Perhaps she fell asleep, lured away from consciousness by some playful spirit, as she was unaware of the hours that passed by.

And thus, she was awoken at night when a hand gently touched her shoulder.

Her breath hitched, and instincts from a life long gone made her start. She came to within a heartbeat, her eyes fixed upon Reborn’s gunmetal grey ones.

She wasn’t surprised.

He was.

“You’re alive.”

“I am.”

Luna felt his other hand rest upon her other shoulder, and she couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across her face. He was greedily watching her, eyes all but devouring the sight of her.

In the dim moonlight, she could see that there were wrinkles upon his face that had been absent from his previous child’s form. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips were set into a determined frown.

It was strange, seeing him so mature.

She gently tugged at his wrists, pulling them from her shoulders. Instead, she tugged him down onto the grass beside her, and leaned against his chest. He was warm against her back, and pliant to her touch.

“How long have I been gone?” She asked.

“Three years.”

Luna blinked. “Only three?”

Reborn snorted at that, tilting his head back to stare up at the sky. They were far away enough from civilisation that the sky was filled with stars.

She could feel tension escaping his body, and she let herself be pulled closer, conforming to the curve of his chest.

“Technically, it’s been thirteen. You’d disappeared from the present too.” Reborn clarified. “The curse… when we returned into the present, it hadn’t been broken yet. You were gone.”

Luna wondered if that was anger she heard in his voice; she couldn’t turn to see his expression. “… So I’m supposed to be forty-three this year?”

“You’re still thirty.” That was definitely amusement in his voice.

“And how old are you now?” She replied, unable to stop her lips from curling into a smile. How infectious was his happiness.

His answer was immediate. “Seventy-five.”

“So thirty-four.”

“Actually, thirty-six. I was thirty-two when I was made an Arcobaleno, and it’s November now.”

“So it’s only a six year difference?”

He huffed a soft laugh, she could feel it reverberate against her back. A warmth feeling trickled down from her heart and she felt it settle in the pit of her stomach.

They lapsed into silence, which was only interrupted when she’d settled herself more comfortably against him, making him shift so that his arm was slung around her waist and she was sitting between his thighs.

“… You were right, you know.”

“About what?” Reborn’s voice had thrummed through his chest; she could feel it vibrate against her scapula, his words curling warmly against the base of her neck. It was distracting.

Reborn’s fingers drifted over her wrist. “About Dame-Tsuna. He…”

“—became your Sky.”

“Yes.”

Luna huffed out a soft laugh, and she could feel his cheek brush against the side of her neck. His eyelashes brushed against the curve of her jaw, and his breath puffed against her skin.

The warmth of his arm against her abdomen made her tilt her head back, staring up at him. His features were upside down, but she could recognise the faintest of smiles upon his lips.

“I’m glad.” She breathed, even as he leaned down to press their lips together.

The kiss tasted of ash and coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was the anticlimactic end of never so much death. I really enjoyed writing this monster of a two-shot, and I’ll fill in what happened in the blanks of this story.
> 
> _In the future that never happened…_  
>  Reborn killed Luna. And the present!Reborn realised this; he never found out the reason why he would’ve ever needed to do that. So the fact that she thought of him as her protector from Death is something that’s rather jarring. Luna never finds out about this particular fact.
> 
> _Why Reborn kissed her:_  
>  He had thirteen years to mull over Luna’s admission of love for him, just before she died. Sure, he’d moved on, had other girlfriends and lovers throughout the past decade, but she’d returned. And for her, it’s only been a few hours. She’s still in love with him; it’ll be easy for him to fall back into love with her.
> 
> _Yes, Shimon did happen:_  
>  Because Daemon Spade is a dick and pitted poor Enma and his Guardians against Tsuna’s. And now, Tsuna has the Shimon Famiglia as his allies! Hurray!
> 
> _Why did the Arcobaleno curse removal get delayed for 10 years?_  
>  Time magic is weird in the sense that if a primordial being such as the Master of Death were to remove the curse in their future, the removal of such magic would stay in the future. So even if Reborn had been an adult in the destroyed future, when he returned to the past with Tsuna and his Guardians, he would’ve been returned back to his baby form until the very second of the very day that Harry had destroyed the curse.
> 
> _What’s up with removing Luna’s magic?_  
>  Equilibrium must be maintained. Something must be sacrificed when someone is returned to life, and to a witch/wizard, their magic core is equivalent to their life. So by taking away her magic, Harry allowed her to return.  
> But just because she has no magic core doesn’t mean that she’s not magical per se: she’s still a former-necromantic witch and still is a variant of a seer, just without the magical core, and she’s perfectly capable of wielding a Flame once she learns to unlock it. (She’s a Mist/Rain Flame, if you wanted to know.)
> 
> _So what happened during the thirteen years?_  
>  Tsuna had the perilous job of refusing to become the Decimo Vongola, and somehow managed to become the leader of a vigilante group that managed to somehow eradicate the former Vongola, reshaping it into something that the Primo Vongola himself would’ve led. Whoops.
> 
> Any other questions can be asked in a review, and I’ll be more than happy to answer!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading; I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> – Nym


End file.
